


the sheets

by wannabejasmine



Category: Ride or Die (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Smut, rip ride or die book 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:54:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29190381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wannabejasmine/pseuds/wannabejasmine
Summary: where they argue what ‘another time’ really means
Relationships: Logan/Main Character (Ride or Die)
Kudos: 2





	the sheets

“Home!"

As soon as the door swings shut, two strong arms find their way around her hips as her backpack helplessly slides to the ground, textbooks colliding in an unceremonious thunk. A tiny, startled protest slips from her lips, and a dark chuckle is laid against the skin of her neck in response. While the arms maintain their hold and her toes begin to rise off the carpet, her fussing turns into winded laughter as she’s ferried across the living room and placed gently on the kitchen counter. 

While the calloused hands slide from her hips to push her knees open, she attempts futilely to sweep away the hair that’s scattered across her face and stuck on the surface of her lips. She’s greeted by an ingenuous, lopsided smile when the strands slide out of her vision. 

“Hey there.”

She refrains from acting on the unbearable urge to bring her fingers to his cheek, to sweep the familiar line down his upturned cheekbones to his lips. _Those gorgeous, gorgeous lips_. “Hi.”

His nose dips down to meet hers, soft skin meeting in an affectionate brush. “How was class?” 

“It was class.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound fun.”

With a silent sigh, she gathers all her willpower to refuse being distracted by the way his eyes stare straight through her. By those shady irises that threaten to smother her with their tender, willing hold. “I mean, it’s Calculus.”

“But you love that confusing shit.”

And his grin is nearly dazzling. If she wasn’t so weary from the dragging academic day, she’d most likely lean forward and kiss the grin off his face; instead, she rolls her eyes and tries to hop down from the counter, but his unrelenting fingers on her thighs keep her in place. The next sigh is audible. “Logan.” 

“Aurora.” He parrots her exasperated tone with a lengthy drawl, his hands gliding over denim until his thumbs reach the faded button of her jeans. 

With a marginal frown at the sound of her full name, she rests her hands on his and gingerly plucks his fingers off. “I’m hungry.” 

His head promptly drops down to her neck, and his lips slide across the soft lines of her jaw. “I can fix that,” he murmurs, that dusky, dark tone entwined with promises that could make her legs weak in one, fleeting second. 

“Great!” She manages to unravel herself from his grip and hops off the counter. “Ramen, or mac and cheese?”

She watches his wide shoulders slant down with a sigh, and he glances over one with that same brand of amusement and mischief she’s grown so accustomed to. “I got takeout.”

She gasps, one hand flying to her chest. “Did I forget your birthday? Do we have an anniversary?” 

He laughs and sidles up behind her before walking them to the table. “No. Just missed my girl.” 

Her pathetic, traitorous heart takes flight. Her brief annoyance subsides in his arms, and she happily welcomes the gentle kiss pressed against her cheek. “I missed you, too.” 

He pulls the chair out for her. “Good. It’s the least I deserve after having to tell Vaughn to make me a vegan burrito.” 

She playfully bumps his shoulder when he cringes. “Reducing my meat and dairy intake was actually good for me, you know. My body feels lighter. I can do cardio for twice as long at the gym. Also, I lost five pounds.” 

With a forlorn, sorrowful gaze, he runs a hand over the back curve of her jeans. “I know.”

“Hey!”

  
After dinner, they lay curled around each other on their bed. The once white-yellow California sun has dimmed, now transfigured into the canted rays of moonlight on their bedroom carpet. She drags her unhurried fingers across Logan’s cheek, tracing the arcs of the shadows that the curtains frame on his face. 

Meanwhile, his eyes are affixed on the television on the opposite wall, dismissive scoffs leaving his mouth every so often. “Isn’t anyone remembering that they’re step siblings? That’s gross.”

“Ex step-siblings,” she corrects. 

“Still. It’s weird.” His nose scrunches, and she keeps the pathetic sigh to herself. _Such a lovely nose. And cheeks. And eyes. Everything, really._ As the credits roll, and the lights flickering from the television dim, his face finally turns to meet her gaze. A knowing grin spreads across his features. “Staring?”

She makes a most-likely unavailing attempt at nonchalance. “Maybe.” 

He places a thumb on her bottom lip and gently pulls down. “You missed the dramatic ending.”

“I’ve seen _Clueless_ at least a hundred times.”

He frowns. “Why didn’t we watch _Fast and Furious_ , then?”

She tucks her head into the pillow. “Our lives are fast and furious enough.” 

The quiet buzz of the end credits fizzles out, and all at once, his weight hovers over her. His hands dance at the bare space where her fabric meets the curve of her waist. “Let’s make it faster.” 

Her eyes blink shut in anticipation, and the mere lust in his voice sends shudders down to her toes, already curled into the bed sheets. The only response is a happy sigh, as she allows herself to truly revel in each kiss he lays on her collarbone, and each sting that follows in its wake, when his teeth sink into her skin. “I want you,” he murmurs against her mouth. 

Her back intuitively arches off the bed, wanting to relish every inch of him, give in to him, surrender herself to him. Just like how her body betrays her every time he mesmerizes her with such ease. She locks her legs around his hips, nearly shivering when she feels him, hard against her. “Clearly.” 

His eyes darken, and he angles his thigh between her legs to slowly sway forward. She whimpers and her chest caves in, searching for the deepest kind of breath after the sheer blackness of his pupils steals it away. “Look who’s talking.” 

Their lips finally surge together, and her hands rise desperately to his hair, tugging it carelessly as each meeting of their lips grows more dangerous, more reckless. Between kisses, his fingers creep up her shirt and begin to sweep across her skin languidly, reverently. Breathy sounds of approval float from her lips as his palm lays flat on the curves of her ribcage. For a moment, her eyes fly open, and she follows his gaze. He seems to be taken by the back of his own hand, spellbound by the way her body rises and falls under his fingers. For a moment, her shy smile, once inspired by sheer, visceral pleasure, dissolves into one of awe. _How did she manage to make this man fall in love with her?_

“What?” she asks softly. He huffs a laugh, still staring at his hand, which rises more frequently as a result of her heart rate flying faster by the second. 

The sweetest kinds of irony settle in during moments like these. Because as much as she can rhapsodize over the way her heart tests the very confines of its own chambers when his lips are latched onto her skin, or when he’s so deep inside of her that air feels foreign– it’s fleeting, split seconds like these, where he reveres her as if he’s in shock of her very presence, her being, that her pulse dangerously defies its physical capacities. 

“Sometimes, I just can’t believe that you’re really mine.”

Their eyes meet once again, and she swears that the sweetest, most golden ballad can be sung about the moment where their pupils dive into one another; never, with any other person, any other boy– _well, the only other boy being the one who kissed her after biology class in middle school, all brace-faced and sloppy_ – has she experienced the overwhelming need to deconstruct each declaration and promise that’s shared within the gaze itself. So, in that very second, she tries. She finds the fullest kind of wonder in his irises, a darker crepuscule in his blown pupils. A staggering amount of affection, the kind that makes her feel like she’s some ethereal, otherworldly being, sent down to earth just for his liking. 

“We’ve had this conversation so many times,” she whispers, raising a hand to his cheek. “I’m the one who should be in disbelief.”

“Oh, troublemaker–” He shakes his head with a sly smile. “If you really think that, you’re not as smart as I thought you were.”

“I’ll have you know that–”

He cuts off her further protest with a searing kiss, and with that, she is reeling, once again. His hands find their way to the crest of her breasts, and with one flick of a finger, her body is instinctively jerking off of the bed, desperate for his sharp touch to singe every other patch of skin. With a chuckle, his hand winds a steady path down her stomach to the rise of her hipbones, and his muscles tense in her grip when his fingers slide down into her. He groans something tortured against her lips. “Already?”

She tries to control her writhing against him, but when his thumb presses down on her, most autonomous movement is rendered pretty ineffective. “It’s very… easy, with you.”

He tries to pull down the lace bindings of her underwear gently, but as soon as his fingers brush the fabric, his touch grows more frantic. “ _God, you’re so ready for me_ ,” he murmurs amongst his hoarse curses. She whimpers at the desire shining through each swipe of his fingers into her; he manipulates her body so easily, so flawlessly, drawing out sharp cries of pleasure and streaks of want, playing at her strings with a vicious kind of zeal. She reaches down a shaky hand and pulls at his boxers. He looks up with a mischievous grin. “Someone’s impatient.” 

“No. Just needy.”

His head-thrown-back laugh falls into the luster quickly sweeping around the room, illuminating the hidden swell of her waist, the cut planes of his chest; all his heavenly imperfections that she refuses to label as such lit up under a moonbeam. He kicks off his boxers and takes little time lining up before he pushes into her. They share a gasp and a moan at their togetherness. His head drops to her neck. “Good?”

She nods eagerly. “So good.”

He smiles into her skin before beginning his steady rhythm, driving into her again and again as she grapples at his shoulders, desperate to feel him everywhere. Her fingernails dig into his skin, because it’s just not enough, no matter how hard he tries. _Never enough._

“More,” she orders, the choked word making his eyes flare with something carnal.

“Anything for you.” He begins to push into her with unrelenting ardor, taking her, forcing her to surrender to him and the wild lashes of pleasure that he lays on her skin. “You like that?”

“What do you think?” Her words, built on a flimsy gasp, force a laugh from his lips. He nuzzles her shoulder before pushing into her harder, each move of his hips making her dizzy with want. 

“Logan,” she says breathlessly, the words barely forming on her lips amidst the steady stream of gasps as she reaches back to clutch the headboard, in the attempts to right herself. 

“Yeah?” After raising his head to meet her gaze, he takes the opportunity to press his response against her mouth, capturing her next gasp with another kiss. She writhes underneath him and unwraps her legs from his waist, using her knees to push him off. 

“One sec.”

After he quickly complies and shoots up, she pulls herself to a seated position with shaky arms, and nearly whimpers at the sudden hollowness. As soon as she’s upright, he holds her face with both hands, profound concern in his eyes. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Did you–”

“Logan.” She pulls his arms down, and the concern spins into confusion. She nudges him away a few inches and quickly turns over onto her knees while her hands find the headboard once again. 

He blinks. “Wha–”

She looks at him over her shoulder, and her already disheveled braid pathetically unravels down her back. She nearly stutters forward as his eyes follow the tumbling hair before locking onto hers with a desire darker than dusk. “I was wondering if you wanted to try the… other?” Though unable to halt her exceptional talent at blushing every few minutes she’s around him, she musters up the courage to bend forward and sway her hips. 

Understanding floods his features, and he chokes on nothing. “Uh–I–You mean–”

 _Ha_. Inspired by her sudden nerve, she uses one hand to grip his wrist and yank him towards her. “Come on.” She pulls the arm around her, and when his front is completely flush to her back, she leans back and pushes herself against him. A guttural moan spills from his mouth, and she echoes the sound when his teeth find the skin of her shoulder. 

“You sure?” he murmurs as his nose trails up the curve of her neck. “It’ll hurt.”

“When I’m with you, pain is irrelevant.”

“Don’t know if that’s a good thing.”

“What? Are pain and pleasure so disparate, anyway?”

He forces her head back with a gentle tug on her hair, and lays a tender kiss on her cheek. “Big words from that beautiful, small mouth. Wonder if you can scream them, too.”

 _Oh my_. Dirtier sentences have left his lips, but somehow, every time they reach her ears, it’s equally as stirring. She shivers and feels him grin into her neck. “Don’t challenge me. I can try.” 

While his mouth runs down the ridges of her spine, his fingers dip down into her. Her knees would buckle if it wasn’t for her clenched grip on the headboard; her balance wavers as he begins to caress her, and his lips return to the vulnerable skin of her neck. “Try, then,” he mutters while sliding one finger inside of her. 

“Concupiscent. Uh–” A soft moan interrupts her concerted effort. “Uh… exaltation. Delectation– _ha_!” A second finger makes her pitiful, neural circuits spark in dysfunction, and she mentally curses her right brain for its weakness. 

“I said screaming, gorgeous,” he murmurs before kissing the curve of her jaw. 

“I–” A louder whimper plays on her lips when his fingers curl up viciously, the once steady pace devolving into a sweet, addictive staccato. Her hips jerk forward, but he holds her in place. 

“That’s better.” He tugs her hair harder, forcing her to meet his gaze. He raises an eyebrow.   
  
She blinks fast, torn between her brain conjuring up the most complex words it knows and the rest of her body erupting in growing bursts of pleasure by the second. “Diaphanous. Mellifluous. Petrichor. Eth–” A desperate cry echoes in the air, and she’d almost be embarrassed if he hadn’t already heard it hundreds of times. 

Words begin to completely elude her when she feels a familiar tempest begin to lash at her senses. _Shit_. “Logan, I’m g–” Another tortured moan. She pushes at his arms, but her efforts are all in vain as the squirming intensifies the growing rapture. _No. No_. “Logan!” She twists and struggles, but one firm hand grips her waist while the other continues its overwhelming, _sublime_ assault on her senses. 

“Don’t hold back.” 

His tone, dark and rich and commanding, is what finally makes her lose it. Lose it all. Forget screaming, she completely loses the will of her own vocal cords; she’s not sure if she’s actually coherent or not, all she knows is the honey of Logan’s lips on her own, the euphoria surging through each vein and nerve, and her vision being overshadowed by the brightest, most staggering sunspots that put the sweltering California summer to shame. She doubles over, hunched over Logan’s arm, sobbing and begging as each tide of pleasure crests over her with abandon. After what seems like a torturous forever, she regains control over her own body, and winces at the tiny rivulets she feels slink down her thighs. With a hasty look over her shoulder, she glares at his wide smirk. “Seriously?”

His fingers still draw languid circles as his eyes flare triumphantly at the still-growing heat. “I don’t see what’s so bad about it. It’s just sq–”

She slaps his hand away before looking down with a sigh. “I’ll have to change the sheets all over again.”

“Well, if you’re already going to…” A slow, lazy smile spreads on his face, and her eyes widen. 

“Wait, Logan, _please_ , it’s so… _intense_ and–” But apparently, his hearing fails, because his hand disappears in a flash, and pleasure winds up like a frustrating, descending time bomb, all over again. A few seconds later, she’s silently screaming, pulsing on those magical, beautifully stubborn hands. When she catches her breath, her cheeks are aflame as her fingers itch to brush at her thighs. 

“You’re sexy as sin.” Logan sighs as his own fingers trace the thin runnels that are gracing the tan skin of her thighs. “I don’t understand why you’re so embarrassed by it.”

She winces as she takes in the damp pillowcase and sheets below them. “Because it’s embarrassing.”

“But I make it happen.” She hums in response, still trying to even her breath. “And you love me.” 

“I do.”

“So, you have to love it, too.”

She sighs and leans into his embrace. “I guess I didn’t think of it that way.” 

“Plus,” he says, and his fingers trail down her back. “I wanted to make sure you were… loose.”

“And here I thought you’d forgotten.”

“An offer like that? I’d die before I’d forget." His palm lays flat against the bow of her spine. "You sure?"

“Positive.” 

She feels his heartbeat stutter as his hands drag her hips back. When he settles behind her, she feels him tense and rest his forehead against her back. “I don’t even know how I’ve lasted this long.”

She spares him a glance over her shoulder. “Not too fast. I want to actually know what it feels like.”

He surges forward and tugs her fiercely against his chest. “Oh, you’ll feel it.” Such a dark promise, it makes a shudder linger at the cross of her shoulder blades. When she finally feels him, ready against her, she grows nervous. _What if it’s bad? What if he hates it?_ He lays a soothing hand on her back. “It’s okay. Relax.”

She takes a deep breath and tries to conjure up her daring side, the side that reveled in high-speed chases and trespassing behind the Hollywood sign, but all she can manage is a shaky laugh. She begins to relax under Logan’s touch, letting her eyes flutter close when his hand finds and strokes the thin skin of her ribcage. “Just tell me when to stop.”

She nods, and feels a deep, sweeping pressure start to push inside of her. But it’s unfamiliar, odd. And then… _painful_. “ _Ow_.” She winces, and Logan stops completely. He moves to pull out, but she reaches around to grab his wrist. “No, just… wait.”

His voice sounds strained, and worry is written clear on his face. “I can’t hurt you. I _won’t_ hurt you.”

“It doesn’t hurt. It’s just… different.”

He frowns. “Liar.”

She smiles sheepishly but scoots back to reassure him. “Just… give it a moment.” He nods reluctantly and brushes the hair off her back, his hands moving to massage the curves of her neck. She sighs happily. “See? Already better. Plus… it’s in, right?”

He clears his throat. “It is… almost.”

“Almost?” she chokes out.

Seemingly made up his mind by her reaction, Logan pulls away and gently lays her down. “Let’s just try again another time, okay?” The lines on his forehead are still slant in worry. 

“But–”

He silences her with a quiet, purposeful kiss. “Another time.” 

_No!_ She huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. _God, she hates failing at things._

Another, softer kiss against her pout. “You are adorable.”

“Not exactly what I want to hear right now.” 

“But you are.” 

She rolls her eyes in response. He begins to pull the covers up, but she grabs his wrist. “Wait.” He raises an eyebrow, and her fingers drift down his abdomen to his hips, where his want is clear as ever. She takes him in her hand, and he lets out a restrained groan. “What about you?”

He grabs her hand and kisses the back of it. “Don’t worry about me.”

“But–”

“Just get some rest. You have an early class tomorrow.” Before she can protest, the covers are laid up to her chin and the lamp string has been pulled. 

After a few seconds in the darkness, she sighs loudly. “Logan.” 

“Yeah?”

“The sheets.”

“Right.”

  
A few hours later, she finally puts an end to her agitated tossing and turning, and settles for laying on her side and staring at him. 

An odd compound of disappointment and embarrassment still stirs in her as she watches his eyelashes waver with each steady breath. _Why couldn’t she just do it? The other girls he’s been with probably could’ve._ She frowns at her own thoughts. Curious, she peers under the blanket and narrows her eyes. He’s _still_ hard. He can make her come with a single, stormy gaze, or by a few, compelling words strung together. And she can't make him feel anything near that. An idea lingers in her sleep-deprived mind, and she almost dispels it. But she doesn’t. 

“Screw it,” she whispers, and climbs on top of him. He shifts quietly beneath her, but doesn't seem to wake; instead, a gentle mumble of words leaves his lips. When she hears her name among them, her cheeks warm with that same, completely smitten-with kind of adoration for this boy. Even while asleep, he makes her swoon. _So adorable._ She pushes aside her underwear and tries to steady her breathing before it's inevitably stolen from her, in just a few seconds. Carefully straddling him, she slowly lowers. And she feels the pain and resistance almost immediately. Despite the discomfort, and admittedly unrelieved tenderness from earlier, she forces herself to fall down on him. 

A few moments later, she feels him jerk awake, dazed and stunned, with wide-eyes and a loud curse on his lips. His sudden movements unwittingly force her deeper, and she lets out a shriek as the pain curves into her faster than she was prepared for. But she presses on, and with each fall, the stinging spirals into something else. Odd, and overwhelming, but... _good._ With a small moan, she relishes in the heat she feels rush to her thighs. 

Logan is currently choking on his own gasps, his eyes frantically flickering down to where their bodies meet, and back to her face. His hands find her hips, but don't try particularly hard to push her off. "What the hell–" But his disoriented, half-asleep stuttering is interrupted by his own, tortured groan.

" _Holy_ –" His head is thrown back onto the pillow, his eyes squeezed shut. “ _God_ , that’s tight.” 

The look of sheer reverence on his face sends a chill up her spine, and it's enough to keep her going. Her languid movements grow less so, and she begins to rise and fall relentlessly. With an arch of her back, her eyes fall to the ceiling and roll back into her head; the moonlight still shimmers on the backs of her eyelids. When she glances back down, Logan looks completely enthralled by her, his own eyes wide and intense all over her body. As their pace grows more hasty, she feels the divine pressure more and more, the friction of their bodies coming together completely dazzling her. Her body lurches forward from the intensity of it all, and she hides her embarrassment with a kiss on his neck. “Does this feel okay?” 

He huffs a shaky laugh as his fingers dig willing craters into her hips. "You feel... like _heaven_." 

“High praise.”

His hands travel up to her breasts, and she feels that familiar kind of chaos he wreaks on her body start to build. Her body starts to shudder of its own accord, and she feels her throb around him in anticipation. _Oh._ _That's never happened before._ A steady string of curses taints the air while his hips roughly thrust up, again, again. “I won’t last long.”

“That’s okay,” she whispers. 

His breaths come out as broken gasps and groans, and the usual lopsided smile dissolves into his mouth dropping open, his pupils completely blown as he blinks at the ceiling. She revels in that brief moment, where she feels like _she's_ the one in control, where she holds him in her wavering, delicate grip, and still, draws out pleasure from him unlike any other; because the only thing better than coming by Logan's hand– _or mouth, or body, anything really_ – is watching him come undone under her. How she can actually see the way she unwinds the fleeting instances of his vulnerability, where she forces him to relinquish his hold on her. Flying freely with the will to increase her pace, she grips his chin and jerks it up, with more force she thought she's capable of. “Why won’t you look at me?”

His eyes flicker up for a moment, before his head drops back, once again, with a vicious complaint on his lips. “If I look at you one more time, _I will fuck you into this bed so hard that we’ll have to buy a new bedframe._ ”

 _Oh, god_. His words deal a stunning, reverberating blow on her entire body, and suddenly, the sheer conviction and covenant in his voice is sending her flying forward, gripping the bedsheets for dear life, as her body all but implodes in bliss; a pained scream tests her already rough vocal cords as she feels herself convulsing onto him with embarrassing swells of desperation. Her own neurons fire pathetically at a rate that she simply can’t keep up with, because she’s completely lost to blackness and pulsating blurs of nothing, the only thing left of her being the unsparing pleasure that her body is offering him. It goes on for an agonizing, overstimulating, divine forever. 

But as soon as she feels consciousness slowly trickling back into being, she finds herself temporarily suspended in the air, and soon bouncing onto her stomach. Suddenly, a massive, staggering amount of pressure is forced upon her as Logan drives into her from behind. And once again, she is free-falling into a sublime nothingness, screaming into the pillow and completely helpless to the pleasure that takes over her skin like the stormiest kind of tidal wave. And it doesn’t stop, even when Logan’s loud groan reverberates in the darkness when he finishes with her, true to his promise, hardly a minute later. 

“Holy shit,” he murmurs into her skin as he collapses down next to her. 

She thinks that she tries to agree with him, but she still hasn’t regained full control over her senses. When she blinks back into being, she’s still panting, and her eyes feel wider than the crooked moon still unapologetically brushing past their curtains. “I think I… blacked out.” 

Logan huffs an incredulous, choked laugh next to her. “I can die a happy man.”

One of her hands flings out to grip his bicep with a deadly intention. “No dying. If I never get to experience that again, I’ll kill you myself.” He chuckles and draws her to his chest, where their slowly swelling hearts settle into a steady rhythm, in concert. He presses his nose into her hair with a contented sigh. After a few minutes, she’s convinced that he’s fallen asleep, until his husky, amused whisper touches her ears. 

“Did I give you the greatest orgasm of your life with my voice?”

She slaps his chest. “Shut up.”

He grins against her neck. “You just couldn’t wait, could you?”

“Well, what did you mean by ‘another time’?”

He huffs another laugh and reaches down to pull her fingers into his palm. “God, if you even knew how much you have me wrapped around your beautiful, perfect little finger.” 

“I don’t think fingers can be beautiful. Or perfect.”

“Everything about you is beautiful.”

Despite their many months together, butterflies still take flight within her. Mostly speechless, she mumbles something incoherent in response. He laughs and pulls the comforter over them again before dropping a final kiss on her lips. “I love you, troublemaker. So much, it’s dangerous.”

“You haven’t seen danger yet.” 

“If it’s anything like tonight, sign me up for a lifetime subscription.”

She laughs and nestles against his chest. “You’ll be first on the list.”

He huffs in annoyance and tightens his grip on her. “I’ll be the only on the list.”

She nods sleepily. “For forever.”

“Forever.”

But just before she’s about to drift into a dream, she feels fabric rub against her calves, and a frustrated groan leaves her mouth. “Logan.”

His head snaps up, concern on his face. “What, baby?” 

“The sheets.”


End file.
